Return to Nove
by Quenril
Summary: In continuation...Kinya, apprentace of Gandalf and foster child of Aragorn, goes back to the town of her birth where her mother was a whore, her brother was almost killed an she is now rememered and hated far more then ever...
1. Return to Nove

For those of you who have not read my other story, this is a sort of continuation. I guess you don't REALLY have to read my other story, but the other's MUCH better. This is just what I'm putting up right now, as I still haven't finished the next part of Kinya's story. I know, I'm a lazy bitch, what can I say? I've been watching ROTK EE…

Anyways, this story takes place after the War of the Ring. She's become friends with Gildor, and all you really need to know about him (if you currently know nothing of him) is that he is an elf, and has become a friend of Kinya's. He's currently been helping Kinya a lot in trying to help her after the war, as I explain briefly in this passage.

Another note for you lazy people who don't feel like reading the other chapter, Kinya is gifted with the Anna Celebrach, or the Sight. It comes in quick flashes of sliver light in her eyes…it was an important gift in the war, and the people of her town thought it was demons.

With that, enjoy, and please R&R!!!

Nove

I came over a final crest, and there it stood, cradled in a little lip in the land; Nove. It's chilling resemblance to the town I knew 13 years ago was so powerful it was enough for me to stand there, staring at it for a length of time I cannot recall, and probably never will. Perhaps one day I will wake up from a dream and be able to remember exactly where the sun was when I first saw Nove to when I moved again, but it is not important. What was important was that it shocked me so much I almost didn't have the courage to continue into it.

I took a deep breath, and made my way down.

The market was today, so I bought a pastry from a merchant (and had to keep from staring at him; he was Hilmof, the same old man making the same old pastries) and felt less obvious as I walked around as everyone was out and about. It was the oddest feeling in the world, walking through the place where I used to hide in fear of a confrontation; now it was only glances and the identification I prayed none would make. I'd see or make the slightest eye contact with someone I knew, and I'd get a fleeting feeling in my stomach that someone would recognize me, but no one did, they just averted their eyes, as anyone would do. Few paid any attention to me at all, unless I was looking at their booth, as I was indeed a young female (still in trousers, nonetheless…I was slowly finding wearing them slightly turned off any older men's idea of rape for some reason, among their many other positive points) and meant very little to them.

I looked around at the houses. Most of them had run down and been remade, but they were almost identical in structure. Most of the barns, the pub, inn, blacksmith shop and the storage house where all the same buildings, almost unchanging since I had gone. Even the house that had replaced my mother's was still there. But as I examined them closer, I noticed something that had altered on every single one of them.

Wards.

Peasant wards, most of which I knew did not work, but a few stuck in that would have some effect. They all had an identical symbol painted in bright red paint above their doors, one I'd never seen before. The paint was still vivid and fresh, and when I went up and studied one, I noticed many other layers of paint fading underneath; this was a renewed custom every year. And that was the least of them. Most houses had other charms and talismans hanging from windows, rafters, wagons, anyplace that would hold them. I had never seen a single one in my remembrance of this place. Not a single one.

Either someone had alerted the innkeeper, or he had picked me out himself, but he eventually came up to me in the crowd and greeted me like an old friend, which he'd been, except for when he was screaming at me for being too weak to carry a pot full of stew. He didn't care what age, gender, or whatever else I could possibly be. People needed rooms, and rooms for him meant money.

"A traveler to Nove, are ye? If you'd be needing a room, we're almost entirely vacant!"

I smiled as well as I could. Under no circumstances did I want to stay here tonight. Staying would obviously be the wiser decision; the hike here had been quite a long way, and I had not slept in a bed since Minas Tirith, several months ago. I had stopped in the Shire to see the hobbits, but obviously no one had a human-sized bed, even as small as I was. Not that it mattered; I'd hardly ever slept in a bed my entire life. But usually upon reaching a destination that took a few weeks to get to, people stay _at least_ the night. But I did not want to dwell in it longer then I had to. I would come here to please Gandalf, Aragorn and Gildor, prove to them there was no reason for the journey, and return.

"Thank you sir; I will keep it in mind, although I'm not sure I'm staying the night. I had, um…family that came from these parts, and I'm searching out their history. Have you lived here long?"

Although a bit deflated now that the prospect of renting out a room was slightly less, he perked up again at the idea of showing his knowledge of the one thing he knew well, with the exception of ordering people around and how to make a good ale. "Aye, my whole life, young missy, which is a far longer time then you think!" He winked at me.

"Ah, yes, of course. Do you think you could answer some questions for me?"

"Well, of course. The pub is mine also, if you'd like to have a seat and sample some of our food or ale?"

I cursed myself for picking the innkeeper now. Although he'd been one of the kinder peoples of this town, giving us work often when other's turned us down, his pub was a place I, more then anywhere else, did not want to go to. It seemed, however, that I'd probably get the most information from him, and I didn't have much of a choice.

"Um, yes, that would be wonderful."

He turned around and led the way across the street and through the threshold of the inn's small tavern. Funny, how big it seemed to used to be…it was only about the size of my bedroom in Minas Tirith now.

After shouting some directions in the back, he came back and sat down in a choppy looking table across from me.

"Now, young missy, what would you like to know? Did ya have a family name?"

I didn't even think about it. The only family name I could even slightly recall was the name of the person I'd tried so hard to forget.

"Blagg. Father's name was Talcum."

His eyes widened a bit, then he frowned and patted my hand. "I'm sorry, miss, but that man died over a decade ago. Wife and two sons treated like royalty, but they left not two seasons after he was gone. Said they were looking for family. Thought that might be you." He reasoned.

"I-I'm related to the mister rather then the missus…my family moved out of this area a while ago…"

He didn't seem to be very interested, now warmed up on the gossip. "You see, his death, though, he took a hero's death. Amazing story, that. Changed this town forever. If you're a relative, I think you'll be pleased with him. Want to hear?"  
I really didn't. Hero's death? Getting stabbed in a pub? Unlikely. I was already cursing the nature of human minds, even though I myself was subject to one.

"Of course…anything you can tell me about them."

He folded his fingers and shook them back and forth on the table. "Well, it doesn't even start with your family…it starts with another. I don't remember where she came from, but one day there was this woman, few years younger then you, coming and asking for jobs. She wasn't hired anywhere; everyone knew their place, and no extra help was needed. I offered her free bedding for the night, and she took it, gladly, and asked me before she turned in where the nearest town to the north was, and I told her she wasn't gonna find anything for another twenty miles. Didn't have a penny on her, couldn't go that far. She'd come from the east, then, obviously." It seemed he was quite proud of this deduction. "Anyways, after that, she looked at me kinda funny, as though I'd told her…hm…how was it exactly?…as if I told her the crops had burned down, and there was no more time left for another harvest. She sat down, had a good three or four drinks, which is quite odd for a female to be doing 'round here. But she's wasn't from here, now, was she?" Once again, he seemed quite pleased with his sense of logic. "And then she started chatting with a few of the boys having their fill. Didn't really watch her, too busy of a night. But a few friends told me she brought Mr. Wimlk up to her _room_ with her." He said shyly. "And I was here for this part; he came down about fifteen minutes later and proclaimed, 'I LOVE THIS TOWN!' and stumbled up out of the pub."

"I…see…" This had started out far closer to home then I'd truly wanted. What did the Valar have in mind for me?

"Oh…young miss, please excuse me." My interruption seem to remind him he was speaking to a female, and a 'young innocent' nonetheless (although my clothes stated otherwise.) "Forgot myself…let me see."

"Please don't leave anything out." I said politely, annoyed with my gender and its common frailties. "I've heard much worse then the story of a common whore." I finished without blinking.

Rather, I didn't blink, but he gave me a few good double-eye winks before he continued with a cough, "Um…well, right then. She paid rent here for a while, but after a moon or so her…occupation was not enough to sustain her in the inn. She started doing it in barns, small alleyways, near abouts to this here pub. Saved her money, I guess, for after a year she bought the house right next to here, burned down about um….14, 15 years ago? More about that later. But anyways…she got wi'child. Two brats, can't remember the older boy's name, but that girl we called Ya. Obvious how that one had 'em, no one asked questions. We avoided that family, less you had an ache in the night, if ya pardon me, miss." He added.

"Go on, please." I had leaned in slightly, and had to force myself to relax to make myself somewhat unobvious.

"Well, they grew up alone, no one ever tried to find out if they were the fathers, for they couldn't tell anyways. Wives always looked carefully, lookin' for similarities. More 'en one family had a fight or two break out…but in the end they shouldn't have bothered…we recon'd she sold her service to a demon." His last sentence was a full bravado, and it took me a moment to realize he wanted me to question.

"Um….why do you think that? Demons?"  
"Aye, the youngest, that girl, was half-demon herself. Little lights went on in her eyes when she was mad, and everything rattled around. If she looked right at you, you saw all your deepest fears right in your heart. Pure evil, she was…and she'd grow up to be something 'orrible. Only she never did."

"What-um, happened to her?" I questioned haltingly.

"Well, ya see, I'm not quite sure. The trollop died, when Ya was 'bout two winters old. The two brats went off by themselves, stealin' from the villagers, who never did 'em a spot of harm. I gave them little jobs on occation, felt sorry for the two, they were a fragile sight. That was before I knew about her being a demon child, course." He added hastily. "Something always seemed to break when she touched it, though…"

_Perhaps because she was hungry, young and clumsy to boot? _I thought bitterly. "Really? Odd."

"Yes, well, see, we thought that perhaps something with her brother was keepin' her here. A few of us thought that if we got rid of the brother, her and her evil ways would go. Those few years she was here, everything went bad. Crops died, fires, sickness, all of it. Never before or after." He proclaimed solemnly and somewhat out of order. "Not to mention having a street rat isn't the nicest thing; who knows what sort of lying thief he'd a turned into?"

_A brave man, who died to save you, you miserable fool. _

"Hmm."

"So, you're brave relative, the good man Talcum, decided to try and get rid of her. He found the boy alone one day, cornered him, and tried to find out about the girl, the demon. He wouldn't say a thing, and then he threatened him, and eventually, seeing no other way, killed him. We didn't see her for three nights, and thought perhaps his valiant deed had rid us of her. But the little imp came in the night. No more then four years old, and she came with a knife, eyes glowing, and flew up and stabbed him. The poor man died almost instantly."

I was staring at him, amazed at what my story had turned into, how they'd twisted it to make their own kind a hero rather then a villain. I had expected it somewhat, yes, but upon hearing it, it made me want to gag.

"The Gray Wizard…Gandalf, have you heard of him?" Nod. "He was passing, I'm sure he heard of our toils with the demon child, he came and ripped her form off of poor Talcum before she could burn his body or suck his blood and threw her into the cold, and she's not returned since. We tried to offer him some recognition for his wondrous deeds, but he declined and was on his way with a servant of some sort in the night. That's how we knew we were rid over her forever."

_Not forever, this town is still cursed with the demon's presence. _"I see…"

"You should be proud, young miss, to have such a brave and valiant deceased loved one. Proud, indeed."

"I am proud. I-thank you for your story." I was aching after sitting over so tensely for so long, and suddenly a bed sounded somewhat pleasant, and I didn't care where it was, even in Nove. I was so bone weary I could've fallen asleep in the chair right then if the pub didn't make me want to puke the contents of the pastry. "Sir, I think I may stay here the night; it's a long way back, and I was planning on starting right away, but the prospect of a room seems overwhelming…"

Thinking he'd sold the bargain with wittiness, he smiled slyly and got up with a slight push on his right hip and walked over behind the counter. "Alright, miss, I'll give you the room right above; it's got the best view. Walk right up the stairs, and it's all the way down to your right. Two bronze pieces." He said officially.

I fished the money out of some unfathomable reach of my bag and banged it on the counter, and noticed another ward on the desk and the opportunity to ask about it. "I've noticed a lot of similar things...signs on the doors…what are they?"

He looked down. "Ah, them, yes. Ever since that demon left, we've had wards so her or anyone avenging her can't harm us. It's a yearly ritual, about the time she was born, midwinter, and we repaint to symbol's on our doors. So don't worry, miss, you're safe under this roof!" He proclaimed happily.

"Ah, yes, that makes sense. Thank you." I nodded and turned to the stairs. I'd been up there twice before, removing bedding for the wash. The stairs were a bid more squishy with moss, and when I ascended the floorboards cracked so much I feared I would fall straight through. My luck, cleaver assembling or perhaps my miniscule size saved me, and I made it to my room. Same beds, same dressings from 13 years ago. I thought even the same bedspreads. But I didn't care, but simply closed to door and collapsed onto the sheets.


	2. A Rude Awakening

I awoke to a clamor of glasses and sat straight up. How could I've been so stupid? I'd given in to my instinctive want and thrown myself into this trap; there was no way to get out but through the pub, where the drinkers were settling in (or far beyond). I could not sleep now, either I was stuck listening to them from above, eyes wide open, or I descended and shook. Neither was appealing. Had I truly thought I'd sleep till morning?

Shakily, I put my still-booted feet on the spongy floorboards, looking down at my frayed knapsack, which itself held close to nothing. _I'll have to fill up on some traveling food before I left again, _I thought bitterly, and watched the candle flickers where they danced under the door. _Oh no, oh no._

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to shut down the nausea.

_What am I doing?_

I stood up abruptly. I'd forgotten my original means for coming here. Was it not to face my fears, destroy the few 'demons' that remained? Without a second thought, or rather, with not thought at all, I stood up, walked determinedly to the door, opened it surely, and waltzed down the stairs into the opening of the bar.

It was identical. The flames sent restless shadows over the faces of customers, illuminating a fraction of their frames and then decrescendoing away to focus on another part. About six tables were set up, along with a few stools in front of the bar. The smoke from a number of pipes left a papery haze around the ceiling, and I was thankful once again for my height.

I walked around for a bit, listening to conversations and trying to keep from shaking. There was some sort of shadow over only me, trying to make me give in and start screaming for release, and I knew I couldn't give in if I didn't want to be thrown out as a mad woman, which in their definition I probably was already.

Their looming faces would look at me occasionally, and I would look back at them for the slightest moment and then away again, quite against my normal routine. The air was so thick I had to force the condemned air to go down my throat without gasping. I wished I was away, home, wherever that was, was it here? I wasn't quite sure. With Aragorn or Gandalf, or anyone really besides these strangers I knew far too well. I could name most of them, after all, but they did not know me enough to recognize the girl they labeled a demon.

Perhaps I hadn't gotten enough sleep. How late was it when I went upstairs? How late was it now? The day had been cloudy, and several folks were still eating dinner. I hadn't slept last night, and hardly at all the night before, nervous upon almost reaching the crest to Nove. Little sleep had never been a problem much before, it was something I was used to, perhaps the bed had made me soft, the absence of the war…

I was suddenly hit by a dizzy spell and swayed a bit, and, unknowingly grabbed the edge of the nearest table. As soon as my hands touched the roughly-cut and smoothed with age wood I felt a jerk and…

_Alright, I can do this, I can do this…It's this or die, you selfish brat, just pick one and talk to him, do the things you saw those other girls do, trap him in! Everyone said you were the town beauty, before they found out about Mother. Just do it, it's the only way! Undo the top button and go talk…_

My face was about a foot away from a young slightly-bearded man I did not recognize, most likely because he was probably around my age. His face mirrored what I could feel the muscles in my face retorting to; fear, tension and all-out wonderment. I had not lost myself for such a long time! And…oh, not here!

My breathing was coming in short raspy breaths, and the few other people around me who'd seen it were turning and whispering to their neighbor, so that by the time I slowly straightened my body the entire pub was staring at me, the most silent I'd ever seen it. And I stared back, not at anyone in particular, but at a ward that was drawn on the wall across the room. Oh, what had I done?  
The silence was drawn out and beyond it's boundaries of a couple of seconds, which is how long it truly lasted. Then the murmurs came in a low hum, followed swiftly by the questions, and the accusations.

"Did you see that?"

"Yes! How can it be?"

"Just like the other one!"

"Could it be _her_?"

"No-no, of course not?"

"The age is right…and she looks-"

"Girl, who are you?"

"What do you want of us?"

"What demon's do you carry?"

"Are you the same?"

"Have you come for revenge?"

The final word triggered the final section their claims got to.

"She is! I remember…"

"She's out to get us!"

"Kill her!"

"Burn her!"

"Destroy her, before she destroys us all!"

"Help me!"

"Save us!"

"She's come in the night to revenge her _own _death!"

I had not moved while this all had gone on, with the exception of my eyes, which flickered from mouth to mouth as they had their say. But I was here for a reason, and although I'd forgotten it at the moment, I knew sitting here and doing nothing was _not _it.

"Yes, I have!" I cried out. "You KILLED me! You all MURDERED me with your silly words and thoughtless acts! I've been haunted by this damned place my entire life! I do not fear death, or war, or even confrontation anymore. I have seen them and lived through them, fought through them and survived. But this…this place has haunted me and it's YOUR fault!" My rage had me pacing the floor and tears torrenting down my cheeks, my voice cracking with angered delight. "You say I am a demon, but I am not! I know demons, oh, I know demons, and you are one that has haunted me! You…you…YOU!!"

I started pointing at all of them, so mad I could hardly see. Their voices had been shocked into silence, but now they were starting up again, and I had to yell to be heard, if I was heard at all.

"Your petty ways have stretched the truth for your own liking! Talcum murdered my brother over a stolen loaf of bread! Not over some selfless good deed! Do you forget we were starving children who begged for food and jobs? Do you forget we were alone, and lived in a cave? Do you forget that is no way for any human being to live?"

Their voices were overcoming mine now, scream and belching over my own cries.

"Kill the demon!"

"Hang her!"

"Burn her!"

"Ya! Ya!"

"Kinya, Kinya!"

I was still ranting, though what about I have forgotten, and I forget little. But I continued my protests as theirs increased and suddenly there were hands on my shoulders. They were going to kill me; I knew it, out of an old fear. Fools! They knew nothing, were nothing, and I would die from nothing. I struggled from the hands that clasped my shoulders, tears screened the shadowed shapes and I forgot sanity for a moment as I thrashed and the heat increased as they got closer.

"Kinya, KINYA!"

I was shaken, and the hands moved to my face and I was looking straight at Gildor, his face a pale remnant of another dimension. His brow was crinkled and his face was searching for some bit of recognition in mine. I let out some sort of half wail and the creases on his forehead instantly demolished and his arms came around me and he held me there, and I sobbed.

The sound was no longer a roaring beat but still continued with outraged protest. I could assume it looked quite odd for an elf to walk in and start straight for the 'evil demon girl', but I was so thankful for him I didn't care. He'd followed me? Why? It was as much his decision for me to come as it was Gandalf's and Aragorn's and, indeed, mine.

"Who's he?"

"What right does he-"

"Get that man out of here!"

"No!"

"That's right!"

"He's an elf!"

"In disguise!"

"On of her minions, pretending to me an elf!"  
"Aye, or she seduced him into service!"

"Yes, just like her mother…"

"Horrible."

"Burn the sorceress!"

Ah, so I was a sorceress now, not just a demon. _Which was worse? _I wondered. If it even mattered. I half choked and half laughed into his tunic.

His chin, which had been resting on my head, lifted up a bit and I could almost feel his eyes going from calm protective to hard and cold.

"Enough of this, you fools! Is your fear so great that you cannot see what is there? This girl is no demon, but magic she knows. Yes-I will not lie to you. But you all better bless your own hides in her name, for if she _didn't_ they'd all be orc meat! Kinya here was a huge influence in the Great War, and without her the table would've turned. The flash you see in her eyes is the Sight, where she sees all the wonders and horrors of the world, not a demon showing its presence! It is because of this you should hail her, not assault her! This girl-" and with that he did the most outrageous thing; he put his right hand on my right shoulder and his left hand on my left shoulder, and spun me around and held me out in front of him so I was naked in their eyes. "Has seen the very evil depths of humanity and lived through it all. Death, war, famine, rape, sickness, stealth, plot and fire, she has seen it all, and do you know what the only thing she feared was? THIS FUCKING PLACE!! The place she was born, the place that still haunts her after seeing the world almost end and start anew. And you people, pushed by each other and your fear for yourselves, can't even take ONE BLOODY SECOND to wonder if perhaps she's just as scared as the rest of you."

I was shaking. Never, in my hearing, had anyone said such things about me, or at least in such an extent and completely focused on a person I tried to avoid, that person being myself. Everyone was staring at me, shocked dumb at least for a moment. A few looked guilty, a few convinced, but most just amazed at the elf's speech. In a month or so, even the doubting one's would believe me a demon and Gildor a minion, or, perhaps, even the other way around. I was surrounded by my fear, stuck out into it by a friend and completely helpless. I realized they were distracted enough, perhaps, for us to leave before they started up again, and possibly for the last time with the circumstances.

"Gildor, let's go."

I realized my mistake when I recalled my bag sitting upstairs; it contained a small amount of food, water, my brother's dagger and a variety of other things I would rather have not left behind.

"Wait." I told Gildor quietly, and, leaving him in the pub, wafted through the wave of people who parted for me without knowing why, and sprinted up the stairs, grabbed my bag and flew back down again.

Upon my descent, I heard a few muffled whispers. Any moment they would start again, with their chants and accusations. "Gildor!" I said with a slight tension in my voice.

He was at my side almost immediately, and together and ignoring the many pairs of eyes that followed us, walked out into the night.


	3. A Quiet Night

We didn't say anything, just kept walking, until we were out of the town and beyond the farm houses and down into a small valley. I realized that night I'd ran from the pub it'd only been about a mile further, although at that time it had felt as if I'd ran half way around the world.

With an unspoken decision we stopped. I sat down, and he busied himself with making a fire, me blankly staring at the ground a few feet below where he stood. He had a modest fire going before he sat opposite and looked at me. It was I, however, who spoke first.

"I hate them."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really."

"They have no right."

"Really."

"No."

"Really."

"They cannot treat people as they do."

"Really."

"I wish you'd stop saying that. It becomes quite irksome."

"Really." He responded again, but before I could explode on him, he sighed and looked up at the heavens.

"Why did you come?"

He raised an eyebrow and sat back, sighing. "I'm still not sure if we were thinking of it since time we'd told you to come here that one would follow afterwards, or if it popped in our heads simultaneously four days after you left. We didn't want you to hurt yourself, or someone else. As neither Aragorn or Gandalf would be spared, and any others were not involved, it seemed obvious I should go."

"Yes, you're only leader of-"

"I have a second in command, and it is good that he should take control while I am gone. He has not been tried so as of yet."

"Ah." Was all I said.

The silence drew on. It would not have been uncomfortable if weren't both waiting to start a conversation we knew we must. The place we just left was still pulsing through my veins, and I did not want to return, not even in memory.

"I'm proud of you." He said.

Shocked, I blurted, "What?"

"I'm proud of you, Kinya. Most people are never able to go straight up to their greatest fears and stare at them in the face, wondering if it will recognize you as its victim. Unfortunately, in your case, it did recognize you."

"You doubted me?" I asked dubiously.

"Not for a moment." He defended. "You are a person who's never let anything daunt you from a task. We come to expect that from you, but it is often unwise to take anything for granted. Just because it's what 'you do' does not mean this task was not hard, and sometimes such things must be acknowledged."

"Oh." Was all I could come up with. How did one respond to such a thing?

"So how do you feel?"

I shrugged. I didn't feel much of anything.

"What happened before I came?"

"When did you come?"

"I left a week after you, but assumed you'd be dreading your end and going at a leisurely pace. It took me roughly half-way through the journey to realize I was moving too slow, and never ended up catching you. When I walked in the door and called your name was my arrival."

"Ach." I took a deep breath. He was trying to help me, but help me with what? His persistence on 'helping me' had become wearisome over the last year and a half, not that he hadn't tried similar exercises when he'd seen me before. I sometimes just wished he would leave me alone. Our bitter fights and the nights I'd had to stay up retching and the others forcing myself to eat; were they worth it? Was I worth going through the pain we were all going through? There was enough of it in this world…why did he insist on giving more to try and save a damned girl?

"Are you still convincing yourself that I'm an ignorant fool to try and save you, or have you realized yet that you're using it as a cover-up for yourself to show that you're still so afraid you don't want to speak of it?"

"Mewsh!" I let out the annoyed cry and frustratingly threw a rock at the fire.

"Rocks don't burn well, you know." He commented mildly and plucked it out without acquiring a burn. Elves.

But he was right. Was this another reason I hated knowing people too well? Aragorn, Gandalf, now Gildor, and even Legolas and Gimli on occasion would use the way my mind worked against me. True, I'd used such a technique and many others against everyone I met, but I sometimes liked to think I was the only one who used them. _Ah, I am a selfish little bitch…_

But for once, I didn't feel like fighting him. I often preferred to argue out my cases until the last cent because I knew I would never tire of it, and therefore always win. But Gildor, once again, had used patience to get it out. Was I loosing something of myself to give in so easily?

"I've traveled as far as you did, you know."

I was triggered, and so I began. I told him what I had done since I came here to Nove, of the wards and of the market, of the innkeeper and their story, of my random decision to go sleep upstairs and come down again. I stopped at the part where he came in.

"Good." He said when I was finished. "Now how do you feel?"

How did I feel? Exhausted, or at least tired enough to be back to my normal state of semi unconsciousness. Scared? What was I afraid of?

"Why don't we go back in town and see if we can pin point exactly what it is?" He offered.

I shivered involuntarily.

"Ach. See, it is this town. We were right to send you here."

"Obviously not, as I have come and not been 'cured'."

"A soul cannot be cured so easily, dear child. Especially one as hurt as yours. I've been working on it for over a year now, and your are still the most pathetic person I've ever met."

I flared up. "What is THAT supposed to mean?"

"Only a person as damaged as you would get as angry as you did when a friend told them such a thing."

"A wonderful diagnosis." I proclaimed facetiously.

"It's not failed me yet. Can you safely say that you a perfect soul, undamaged and unspoilt, a virgin to the waves of hate, sorrow and the original means of virginity itself?"

"I never claimed any of that…that does not make me pathetic."

"I should rephrase myself. The sanity and comfort you've surrounded yourself in is one of the most pathetic attempts at happiness I've ever seen."

"I've done what I've needed to do."

"Yes, and I salute you for it. Now that you've saved the world, it's time to save yourself."

"Mmm hmm."

"Stop fighting me, Kinya. Please."

I said nothing.

"This town; it frightens you. There is no doubt of that. But what about the town do you fear? For surely it is a town like any other town…"

"You're going absolutely no where with this." I grumbled. "It's not the town, it's the memories from the town and the stupid, ignorant horrible people who live there!"

"But surely it is the people that make up this town."

"Which is why I fear it." What? I feared a bunch of townsmen? They had done no harm to me, and between us Gildor and I probably could've slaughtered most of them if our hearts were dark enough to do so. Even at age four I'd been able to kill one, and we'd lived alone here at such a young age all by ourselves. Surly they would've killed us in those two years if they truly wanted to?

"How is this town different from any other town?" He repeated, interrupting the stream of words that was flowing in the atmosphere around us. "What makes you fear this one?"

I stared out for a moment. Did he want me to answer the question truthfully, unshamefully? Why was such a task so difficult?

"The memories." I breathed.

"Exactly. But you say it is also the people. How are these people different from any other villagers?"

"Because they make up the memories." I replied monotonously.

"And if you were born and raised in any other town, and the same thing happened to you, would you fear that town instead of this?"

"What, in the name of the Valar, are you trying to get at?"

"It seems you're frightened of a few parts of humanity that have haunted you, and they're being represented by this town, where you first encountered them. Perhaps if you know what exactly is scaring you and why, you can deal with it better."

I just sat there, not looking directly at him, but keeping still and slowly rotating my eyes in a two-foot radius of his head.

"Yes. Wonderful. Is that all?"

"You don't believe me?"

I shrugged.

"You've seen the worst of this world. And it started in this little town. And although Middle-Earth is safe, for the time being, it's inhabitants are still human, and still carry human faults. You can try, as others have long before you, to cure humanity, but I assure you you'll never accomplish it without destroying civilization."

"Perhaps that would be better. No more pain, no more anything, just unending bliss."

"There's not guarantee that death is the sweetness of sleep."

"I've always hoped it sweeter."

"I wouldn't count on it, then. You scared everyone that day we thought you turned to the Dark Lord. No one said it to you, but all were holding on to you desperately, afraid you might turn from us since we heard of you."

"I figured as much." I replied bitterly. What a dark day, that discovery.

"Kinya…you know it was not out of mistrust or lack of feeling towards you. We just knew you had a type of power, with the Anna Celebrach that He did not have, and the fact that you were always so…dark because of it. You were a target, not to mention also because of your closeness with Mithrandir and Ellissar. And you just said that destroying humanity might be 'bliss'…how can you blame us for not being careful with you?"

"This I all know and have thought out, never fear."

"But it still hurts you."

"It turned out for the better, did it not? If you all had not been so scared of me turning, you would not have believed me and put on such a wonderful act when I pretended to." It was a sure fact, for I had Seen once where it never occurred to them that I could fight for any side but the one I naturally was born to, and they stopped me, and we never found out if Frodo was still alive. That one had haunted me the entire duration of the true experience.

"It still hurts you."

"You're enjoying being repetitious today, are you not?"

"It's taking repetition to catch your attention."

"Usually because I don't agree with what your saying."

"Or you don't want to."

"Perhaps. Or I just choose to ignore your statement, because I find it silly or because I still have an argument to make."

"You're being quite argumentive today, I've noticed."

"I think this is the least argumentive I've been in a while. Especially with you."

"Well, you're clinging on being argumentive to the degree of a normal person being argumentive because that's all you know how to do, even though even you are finding your habits troublesome now."

I opened my mouth to speak, but only to replay a fish-out-of-water expression. He was right…what could I say that wasn't an argument?"

"There…now, where were we? Ah yes, this little town of Nove and your fear of it."

This was beginning to be a lot of attention on one topic solely rotating on ME and I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

"You told me once of your existence here. Told me of your mother, your brother, the pub, the Cave, the visits of Halbarad, Elladan and Elrohir. So there is no explaining needed here. You'd seen poverty, pride, sin and fear. You'd seen prostitution, even if you could not identify it at that age. You'd seen death and illness, and the pure hatred of humanity. However, of all these things you saw, I have a feeling it's something today is what you still cannot cope with."

Today? Today I'd seen they had not changed, except for the worst. Their ignorant minds had created a story so that they weren't at fault, so I was not only the subject of a demon, but a demon myself! How did they come to the miraculous conclusions that they did?

"Was it, perhaps, the fact they had not forgotten you, but could not remember the true events that surrounded your existence? Could it be the fact that even now they live in fear of you, that one town surrounded by mountains and ocean-"

"I DON'T KNOW!" I screamed at him, angry and frustrated at this new attempt of his at 'saving' me.

"That's it, then."

"_What?!?" _

"That's it. That's what made you blow up, that's what's still bothering you. And it makes sense, too."

"Why? Why does their pitiful lies driving me mad make sense?"

"Just as you said, they are pitiful. You should pity them for it."

"I cannot pity such an evil thing."

"It's Frodo's pity for Gollum that saved us all."

"Yes. But this is not one person…it's people in general."

"So you're just going to go on hating humanity as you always have for all their faults."

"Go on…yes. I've lived thus far. And cursing them for making me alike."

"Ah-I've got you on that statement twice. You've lived, as I stated earlier, a pitiful existence thus far. See? Pitiful. Just like these people, and for similar reasons. You are alike. You both have become the way you have from natural existing things; fear. They fear what they cannot understand; you. You fear what you cannot understand; them. It's quite simple."

"Yes. Elementary."

"Kinya." He knelt in front of me, holding my face in his hands. "We're going around in circles. All I'm trying to prove to you is that they did what they did unknowingly. They do not know that the story changed in any way. The innkeeper told you the truth as they know it. This hurts you especially, not only because you are its victim, but because you've always seen things as they are. That damned Anna Celebrach has twisted you by not allowing your mind to naturally change things. It's a self defense mechanism. Some memories are to hard to hold onto the way they are, so our brains change them around so we can deal with the pain. You've never had that option. Yet you still have put in your mind that these people are evil, as they think you are. Neither of you are evil, just people who live in fear. Just people. The same as you."

I stared right at him, and I felt my eyes as big as the boulders circling around us, and thought all the light of the stars and the fire was somehow finding it's way to them and making them even brighter. And they became so bright that the fire turned to water, and water to sorrow, and regret, and release. I cried, silent and pensive, and his hands went from my face to around my back in an embrace of deepest understanding. I cried out of pity for the people, and myself as one of them. I cried for my ignorance. I cried for the sake of crying, something I'd utterly despised as a tactic of females. Gildor was the only one I would cry for, and we both knew it as I wept silently in a spot where, twelve years ago, I had been reborn.

After a time, we separated and fell asleep, and without a word started the journey home the next morning. No one ever asked me of my trip to Nove, and I never told. And besides, upon my return there were only a few weeks left until the final boat left, and I would go to Valinor.


End file.
